


With You, I Am Home

by Little_Miss_Bunny



Series: Loving You Always [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: BAMF Sawada Tsunayoshi, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Italian Mafia, Mentions of Prostitution, Mild Language, One Shot, Ten Years Later Verse (Reborn), dark themes, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Miss_Bunny/pseuds/Little_Miss_Bunny
Summary: Prompt: “Home is where your heart is.”Cross-posted from FF.





	With You, I Am Home

**Author's Note:**

> Title: With You, I am Home  
> Song: Home by Nick Jonas  
> Requested by: iKitsuNeko  
> (Cross-posted from FF)

It was strange being under the influence of someone else’s Mist Flames other than Mukuro’s or Chrome’s. Once Mammon altered his appearance to a plain-looking Italian man with a voice to match, Tsuna found himself painstakingly reminding himself that he was Amos De Maggio, another expendable soldier in the Carcassa Famiglia, and not Sawada Tsunayoshi, the Decimo of the Vongola Famiglia.

Needless to say, he was grateful for Reborn drilling Italian in his head (with Hayato’s extra, much kinder guidance at late nights). Although Reborn’s teachings stuck more than Hayato’s since they were constantly interrupted by whatever shenanigan the others brought—Tsuna still didn’t understand how Kyoya would always pop up just as chaos was about to start, especially whenever Mukuro was involved—but Tsuna appreciated it anyways. 

It felt nice to have a family that he could rely on, awfully too nice if you asked him.

“Hey.” Baldo’s deep voice snapped Tsuna out of his thoughts. “Quit dreamin’, maggot, and go check on the girls.” 

Tsuna looked out the car window, noting the empty harbor and the heavy, dense fog that obscured the dark waters. A cargo ship, unassuming with its plain blue and white paint, bobbed up and down near the wooden docks. “Right,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

Baldo clicked his tongue. “Fucking useless. Come on, move your ass.” 

Tsuna didn’t respond. He had learned pretty quickly that Baldo wasn’t the type to say anything twice. When he opened the door to the back of the van, he was greeted with whimpers and quiet sobs from the women. Their thick makeup smeared their pale cheeks and a few had their tight dresses torn. Other than that, they were fine for the most part. One of the women, positioned at the front of the group, glared at him, her stormy gray eyes oddly reminding him of Kyoya.

“You’re going to hell for this, pig,” she said. “Just because we do what we do doesn’t mean you can treat us this way.” She spat on the dirty ground, never averting her gaze from Tsuna’s carefully blank face. 

A loud pop cracked in the air. The women screamed and covered their ears, clustering closer to one another. Tsuna’s hand tightened on the door handle but he didn’t move, not even when he sensed Baldo’s looming presence beside him. His Intuition didn’t alert him of any foreseeable dangers but he couldn’t say the same for the women. 

“Keep your mouth shut, whore,” Baldo said, raising his pistol. “Or you’ll be choking on things other than some cocks.” 

Tsuna pursed his lips. “Baldo, you can’t touch any of them.” 

The other man scoffed. “The fuck you trying to tell me, maggot?” 

“Giordano’s already going to be pissed that you didn’t bring enough girls. He’d probably not like it if some come up dead. Your promotion’s riding on this delivery.” Tsuna licked his lips when Baldo narrowed his eyes at him. “I—I’m just saying, you know?”

“Since when did you give a shit?” Baldo tapped his pistol against the door, making the women flinch. “Get out, one by one. If you pull anything”—he aimed his gun at each and every one of their terrified faces with a crooked grin—"you know what’s comin’ for you.” 

Tsuna’s lips twitched as he resisted the urge to give the trembling women a reassuring smile. Instead he memorized their faces, just like he did with the other women that managed to fall into Baldo’s clutches. It disheartened him that he couldn’t save all of the ones from being circulated in the black market, but he had to focus on the ones that he could save now. He’d find the others later, even if he had to spend the rest of his life. The black market was like a large patch of weeds, endless, always returning when you managed to tear some out. It sickened him that people—human beings—would resort to such things. 

Only one woman met his gaze straight-on, the gray-eyed one from earlier. Tsuna didn’t know her name or where she came from but he knew to keep an eye on her. She was the kind to eat a bullet first from Baldo. Tsuna could only do so much without blowing his cover, something he hated about espionage missions. 

But this time he wasn’t going to hold back.

* * *

“Baldo, Amos, you’re late.”

Giordano stood at the docks with four men shadowing his back like a tall wall. Though the man was short and not one to get his hands dirty, his rich network was enough to keep him his position as a _capo_ , which was the captain or lieutenant of a division in the mafia. The fog provided him a more intimidating backdrop. His rings gleamed on his thin, bony fingers.

Baldo spread his arms out in a friendly gesture and with a smile on his bearded face. “ _Capo_ ,” he said, “we came. That’s all that matters.”

“Everyone else already delivered their dues,” Giordano said. “What chivalrous act did Amos do to keep us waiting this time?”

Tsuna kept his legs apart with his hands clasped in front of him, a sign of submissiveness. He didn’t meet Giordano’s eyes. “I apologize, _capo_.”

Baldo clicked his tongue. “The ma—idiot thought it was a good idea to give the girls water before coming. Two months and he still doesn’t get the memo.” 

Giordano chuckled. The heels of his dress shoes clicked dully against the wooden ports, echoing in the tense air. When he stopped short in front of Baldo, Tsuna almost took a step back if it hadn’t been for Reborn’s training and relentless lessons on poise. He couldn’t be intimidated by this man; but that was Vongola Decimo. Now he was Amos De Maggio.

“Well,” Giordano said, “a golden heart is just what we need, isn’t it, Baldo?” He winked at Tsuna as if he was sharing an inside joke. Tsuna didn’t smile back. “Women like them always fall for the soft ones, the sheep. Amos here is doing well in that field, aren’t you, Amos?” 

Tsuna wasn’t sure how to respond to that. His Intuition wasn’t helping either. “I guess so, sir.” 

He tensed when Giordano clapped a hand on his shoulder. Although it seemed friendly, his Intuition told him the opposite. 

“Sometimes sheep can be good,” Giordano said. “If I tell you to jump from these docks, you’ll ask me how high. That’s good, very good. But most of the time, sheep can be”—he hummed to himself but didn’t look away from Tsuna—“too—what’s the word?— _pliable_. You’re a smart young man, right?” 

Tsuna forced his tongue to work, but he didn’t think that he had to be Amos to speak like a bumbling fool. “Um, I—I think so. I hope so, sir.” 

Giordano smiled and squeezed Tsuna’s shoulder a bit too tight. “Good. I think so too.” 

Tsuna’s Intuition flared but he didn’t move. Just as Giordano’s hand raised in the air—Tsuna’s Intuition practically burned at the back of his mind. Giordano _knew_ —everything seemed to slow down instantly. Tsuna’s eyes flicked to the side when he caught a glimpse of guns being unholstered from Giordano’s bodyguards’ belts. He glanced to the other side, noting Baldo’s lax posture and Giordano’s easy smile. Instead of aiming their guns at Tsuna, the men turned to Giordano. They cocked their triggers almost simultaneously, a resounding click that was almost music to Tsuna’s ears. 

Giordano’s smile fell instantly. “What are you doing?”

Baldo couldn’t even step forward. One of the men knocked him down instantly and restrained him against the ground, unarming his pistol. Tsuna’s Intuition hummed: _Mammon. Allies. Friends. Safe._ He immediately straightened himself and regarded Giordano with a cool gaze. Gone was Amos De Maggio. Now he was Vongola Decimo. “Giordano Costella,” he said, “you have an interesting track record.”

Giordano narrowed his eyes. “What is the meaning of this? Who are you? What have you done to my men?”

Tsuna felt Mammon’s illusion over him fade. He took great satisfaction in hearing Giordano and Baldo gasp. “Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Decimo. I’m certain you heard of me.” 

Giordano’s smile wavered faintly. “And what do I owe the pleasure, _Don Decimo_?”

“I’m not here for formalities,” Tsuna said. “Saying I’m displeased is an understatement. Your men are currently…out-of-commission, I should say.”

Giordano clenched his hands into fists. “So what? I’m not blind to your righteous justice, _Decimo_. I’ve heard that you hunted the Estraneo Famiglia like some horny mutt and handed them over to the authorities. That’s against _Omertà_.” 

His men edged closer to him, making him flinch. Their guns were trained at his head, unwavering. Baldo had trouble focusing his wide eyes on the men, Giordano, and Tsuna. 

“You don’t have the whole picture,” Tsuna said. His Sky Flame briefly lit up above his forehead. He didn’t need his gloves for this. The Varia had already dismantled the Estraneo Famiglia from the inside out. All it needed was a small push to crumble. “I’m not here to take you to the authorities. I’ve never done that. I’m just”—he hummed—“What’s the word? A _Samaritan_. You see”—he gestured to the vast sea—“this belongs to Vongola and I have the right to investigate what’s going on in my territory. Isn’t that right, Skull?” 

One of Giordano’s men snickered but his illusory guise or hold on his gun didn’t waver. “I told ‘em. No one listened.” 

Giordano widened his eyes and took a small step back. “S—Skull?” He glared. “You traitor!” 

He flinched when Skull closed in on his personal space. The gun was too close to his face, barely touching the tip of his nose. “I warned you,” Skull said, his smile still in place. “I warned all of you because I believed in what we were doing until Lisandro took over.” He shrugged. “Besides, I was never part of the _famiglia_ to begin with. No Omertà holdin’ me back.”

Giordano clicked his tongue. “Coward!” 

One of his men twisted and transmuted into thick ropes, quickly binding him before he could take another step. Some of the women shrieked as Giordano struggled uselessly against his binds. Tsuna nodded to the shadows where Mammon lingered. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a cell phone. The glossy gray surface glistened in his hand. Turning, he headed towards the women with the first smile he had in months.

He walked slowly but surely; gravel crunched softly underneath his shoes. A salty breeze blew in the harbors, tousling his hair. When he reached the wide-eyed women, he kept a safe distance so he wouldn’t frighten them. He handed the gray-eyed woman the cell phone.

“You can make one call,” he said. “It’s up to you.” 

The woman studied him for a good moment without saying a word. Tsuna’s gaze didn’t waver. Neither did hers. Finally, she reached out to take the phone. “Why one?” she said.

“Security purposes.” Tsuna smiled ruefully. “This all I can do. I’m sorry.”

The woman snorted. “That bastard was right. You are like sheep.” 

Tsuna chuckled much to her surprise. “I suppose.” He gestured at Skull and the men behind him. “They will keep you company, keep you safe.” 

“You are really Vongola?” another woman said. She shifted when Tsuna looked at her. “You are…kind. Thank you.” 

Tsuna shook his head. “Don’t thank me, _signora_. I don’t deserve it.”

The gray-eyed woman pursed her lips. “You’re far better than those pigs.”

Tsuna smiled slightly. “I hope so.”

* * *

Tsuna couldn’t relax on the way back to Rome from Bari, though the quiet hush was appreciated. His mind was blank for the next four hours or so. He didn’t speak much with Emilio, the driver, who also didn’t engage him with his lively banters. Soft orchestral music played in the background but Tsuna didn’t fall asleep once.

When they finally arrived at the Vongola Mansion, a large, elegant building with richly-colored marble that seemed to glow under the moonlight, Tsuna breathed out a sigh of relief. It was still intact—not that he doubted Hayato’s surveillance. Sometimes—Okay, _most_ of the times, Tsuna’s guardians could just get a little too…excited.

“Thank you, Emilio,” Tsuna said. 

Emilio nodded through the rearview mirror. “Of course, Don Decimo. Take care and have a good night.”

“You too. Good night.”

The doors opened before Tsuna reached the last step. Ileana, one of the maids on the night shift, greeted him with a bow and a sweet smile. “Don Decimo, welcome home,” she whispered.

Tsuna smiled back. “Thank you,” he said as she helped him out of his coat. “Has anything happened that I should be aware about?” The mischievous glint in Ileana’s eyes didn’t help to quell Tsuna’s fears. He shook his head. “I knew this place was too clean for its own good.” 

Ileana giggled. “Don’t worry, Don Decimo. It could’ve been worse.” 

Tsuna deadpanned. “What could’ve been worse?” 

“Oh, look at the time. Will you be eating dinner? I can ask Chef Ceraudo to cook something for you. I wasn’t sure if you had eaten on the way.”

Tsuna raised a brow but didn’t question Ileana any further. For an impish woman, she could be stubbornly loyal to the house’s state of affairs. It was a good thing but Tsuna wasn’t that fond of being kept in the dark, much less when it concerned his family.

“I think I’ll be calling it a night early,” he said.

Ileana frowned. “But—”

Tsuna shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He smiled. “I can just eat a large breakfast tomorrow.”

Ileana still didn’t look convinced. “I’ll put in your order for the morning then. You’re heading to bed right away, right? No detours?” 

“Is there something I should know about?” 

“No…”

“Then I’ll be taking my leave. You and the rest can have the night off. I’ve heard your brother is sick. Take care of him. He needs you.”

Ileana smiled softly. “Thank you. You’re too kind, Don Decimo.”

Tsuna just nodded, too tired to give her a response.

* * *

Not heading for his room right away, Tsuna took a small detour to the West Wing. A long corridor of marble pillars spread out in front of him, and his steps were muted by the wine-red carpets. Paintings of various scenic landscapes looked dark under the dim lighting but somehow comforting, too. It had taken Tsuna years to convince Timoteo to refurnish the house. The elderly man finally relented after Tsuna finally pulled the “you sealed my damn flames so you owe me this much (and more)”. Needless to say, Timoteo’s funeral wasn’t really a sad occasion.

Tsuna finally paused in front of the nearest room. His Intuition told him it was fine to enter. Turning the door handle, he pushed the door slowly open. The left half of the spacious bedroom was a chaotic mess while the other half was spotless. Two beds sat on opposite sides. Even when they had grown up, I-pin and Lambo still insisted on sleeping in the same room together and Tsuna never questioned it. Honestly, he thought it was pretty cute. Fon still never stopped thanking him for giving I-pin the childhood she deserved.

Lambo’s quiet snores were the only sounds. He turned over in his sleep, dropping his textbook to the ground. Tsuna stifled a chuckle as he closed the door behind him. He picked up Lambo’s strewn clothes from the floor and placed them in the laundry basket near the closet. After throwing out all the grape candy wrappers, he dusted off the eraser shavings from Lambo’s desk and re-arranged his books.

A green sticky note caught his eye: _Show Tsuna-nii ASAP._ Tsuna flipped it over to see a math test underneath. Lambo’s messy handwriting was scribbled all over. A red 84 was circled beside his name. The date was a month ago. Tsuna’s heart squeezed in his chest. He slid the exam back under Lambo’s notebook. Sighing softly, he reached over to pat Lambo’s black curls. The 15-year-old didn’t stir from his sleep but did lean into Tsuna’s touch, mumbling under his breath.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” Tsuna said softly.

He drew the dark green covers over Lambo and patted them down to make sure they were secure. He crossed the room, his shoes soft against the pale carpets, to check on I-pin. She was curled on her side, breathing evenly. Her long black hair splayed behind her over her pillow. Tsuna smiled fondly at the small group of origami papers folded on her desk. They were a colorful arrangement of flowers with a small note card next to them: _For Tsuna-nii_. They were probably made some time ago too. Leaning down, he kissed I-pin’s forehead and pulled up her red blankets. Soon he headed for the door, closing it quietly behind him. 

“Boss,” a soft voice said. 

Tsuna turned to see Chrome standing by the doorway wearing a lavender nightgown and cardigan. Her purple hair grew longer over the years, reaching her slim hips. 

“Chrome,” Tsuna said, noticing the cup of water in her hands. “Why are you up? Are you okay?”

“For Lambo,” she said. “He gets nervous at night.”

Tsuna frowned. “Is he okay? Did Onii-san check him?”

Chrome’s lips twitched slightly. “It’s been happening since you left.” She glanced at the kids’ bedroom door. “But I don’t think he’ll be having trouble tonight.”

Tsuna barely blinked when she suddenly hugged him, but didn’t push her away either.

They didn’t say a word. They didn’t have to. This was all they needed.

* * *

Neither of them spoke heading for the next floor. Tsuna didn’t mind it, neither did Chrome. They weren’t exactly the best conversationalists but Tsuna took comfort in Chrome’s quiet presence. He knew that she’d always be there for him just like he’d always be there for her.

They were family.

Chrome’s room was in the middle of the hallway on the third floor. Though she had it to herself, Tsuna would sometimes hear the Kokuyo Gang inside whenever he passed by. It was heartening to know that Chrome had broken out of her shy shell and had those she could call friends. Mukuro usually lingered around as well, his room being right next to hers, and Tsuna wasn’t privy to their interactions. 

“It’s late, Boss,” Chrome said quietly.

Ah, Mukuro must be sleeping then. It was rare for him to keep still even in sleep. Tsuna had lost count of how many times Mukuro projected his illusory self around the house. Though the Mist Guardian had dismissed it as being curious, Tsuna found that the night security surveillance amped up since then so he let the matter rest and left Mukuro be. Mukuro wasn’t exactly someone to take orders kindly anyways. Tsuna still shivered when he remembered how… _thorough_ his Mist Guardians could be when he wasn’t looking. Ignorance was bliss sometimes. 

“It is,” he said. “You should go back to sleep.” He smiled apologetically. “There’s a meeting we have to attend tomorrow with the Santino Famiglia.”

Chrome frowned. “Boss.”

Her unspoken words were as clear as day: _Will you be okay?_

“I’m fine,” Tsuna said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Chrome pursed her lips but didn’t push. She fiddled with the hem of her gown, a nervous habit she never grew out of. “They were good, while you were gone. Mostly.”

Tsuna chuckled. “I didn’t have much expectations.”

“This is the longest you’ve been gone, Boss. We can’t help but worry.”

“I can leave the room for a minute and everyone will put up a fuss.” Tsuna smiled softly. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand.” Chrome furrowed her brows. “You’re going to bed right?" 

Tsuna nodded. “I am.”

Chrome didn’t look too sure. “Okay. Good night, Boss. Sleep well.”

“You too, Chrome.”

Chrome smiled softly. “It’s good to see you finally home.”

Tsuna returned the gesture. “Yeah, it feels good.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Of course.”

* * *

Tsuna had planned on sleeping but found himself heading towards his office anyways. 

He wrinkled his nose when he saw that it was left untouched since he left. Piles and piles of paper were stacked on his sturdy desk, seemingly more than usual but paperwork was always endless. His bookshelves remained where they were and the heavy maroon drapes covered the windows. Somehow his office was always left out of his Guardians’ chaos. Rightfully so because Tsuna wouldn’t hesitate to freeze them if they had destroyed his paperwork. Sighing, he loosened his tie and removed his suit jacket, draping it over his comfy chair. He lowered the lights until his office was bathed in a soft and warm yellow glow.

As he sat down, his Intuition flared but there was no danger. Tsuna’s lips twitched upwards when he saw a young teen sitting up on the chair across from him.

“Reborn,” he said.

The hitman tipped his fedora slightly. Leon sat on his shoulder and flicked his tongue at Tsuna in his own way of greeting. After the Arcobaleno Curse broke some time ago, the then cursed infants were able to return to their normal bodies; however, Checker Face had said that the curse was “a Band-Aid best peeled off slowly”. Even to the end he was an absolute troll (and asshole). The Arcobaleno was now all physically 15-years-old but still retained their old minds and memories. They aged just a tad faster thanks to Verde.

It was somehow stranger that Tsuna’s tutor was a teenager and not a baby.

“Tsuna.”

“I’m home.” 

“I know.”

Tsuna picked up his pen. “I’m just going to write my mission’s report.”

Reborn, lax but back straight, didn’t betray anything on his face. “You are.”

It wasn’t a question but a painfully-stated observation. Tsuna looked down at the fresh sheets of paper, avoiding Reborn’s piercing gaze. “Yeah…”

A few moments of silence passed. The only sound was Tsuna’s pen scribbling on the paper. He was honestly surprised that Reborn didn’t try to pull anything. No weird mechanisms, no surprise bullets shooting from the clock or ceiling, not even a whoopie cushion that exploded with disgusting green slime—nothing. The hitman would always have something planned to keep Tsuna alert whenever and wherever. The only exceptions were meetings with other famiglias.

“Tsuna.” 

Tsuna’s head jerked when Reborn called out to him. He blinked a couple of times, the blurriness in his vision fading. Reborn stood in front of his desk. His face was blank. Even if he was physically 15-years-old now, he still carried himself with his usual confidence and poise. Only the stupid ones would fall for his innocent face. Though Tsuna thought Reborn was a pretty cute kid, he never said it out loud unless he wanted to be shoved in the laundry machines or somewhere else unpleasant. At least Reborn’s voice wasn’t squeaky anymore; it was deeper, just on the cusp of puberty, later than most kids his age, but not as deep as his adult voice.

“Do you need something?” Tsuna said slowly.

Reborn glanced at the clock. “It’s 2 in the morning.”

“Yes, I know…” 

“Breakfast is served at 7:30.”

“I know…”

“Your meeting with the Santino Famiglia is at 9:00.”

“Last time I”—Tsuna furrowed his brows—“No, it isn’t. It’s at 9:30.”

Reborn’s lips slightly twitched. “9.”

Tsuna narrowed his eyes. “9:30. Squalo-san passed a message to me a few weeks ago about the schedule change from Hayato.”

Reborn shifted his weight to left leg, casual and unthreatening all over again. “Hm, you’re still functioning." 

Tsuna sighed. “Reborn, I’m not in the mood for your games.”

Reborn raised a brow. “Games? I’m simply making sure you’re alive.” He glanced at the piles of paperwork. “You’re not going to stop at the report.”

Massaging the bridge of his nose and trying not to doze off, Tsuna propped his elbow on his desk. “Reborn, I was being serious the first time.” His breath hitched when Leon transformed into a whip and Reborn snared his wrist. “Reborn!”

“Go to bed, Tsuna,” Reborn said. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“But—”

“I compiled everything you sent to me through Skull and Mammon. They’re enough.”

“There ar—” 

“You have tomorrow. Make time. A mafia boss shouldn’t work so carelessly.” 

“Fine.” Tsuna clicked his pen and placed it to the side. “Can you let me go now?” Leon morphed back into his original form. Tsuna rubbed his wrist, frowning. “Why are you getting so worked up about it? Don’t you want the paperwork done?”

“I don’t want anything,” Reborn said. “And I never asked for anything. Stop getting ridiculous notions in your head.”

Tsuna just snorted. Surprisingly Reborn didn’t lash out at him like he usually did. “I’ll go then. You should go too. What are _you_ doing up?” 

“Nothing that concerns you.” 

Tsuna smiled almost impishly. “Is it—” 

Reborn pursed his lips. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Snatching his suit jacket, Tsuna leapt across the desk and dashed for the door. “—that time of the year already?” 

He ran out into the hallway just as Reborn aimed a Leon-gun at him. The thought that he was home lessened the weight on his shoulders.

* * *

Instead of waking up to screams or distant booms, Tsuna woke up to soft sunlight streaming through his windows and the gentle morning breeze. He blinked before rolling over and rubbing his eyes. His bed was too comfortable for him to leave. Stretching his arms in the air, he looked down to see that he didn’t change out of his clothes.

“Crap,” he muttered, flinging back his blankets.

He stumbled to his bathroom and checked the mirror. He didn’t look as pale or weary but the circles under his eyes were still there. After splashing some cold water on his face and brushing his teeth, he reached for his towel when he noticed the clock behind him through the mirror: 8:47 AM. 

His eyes widened. “No!” He reached for his phone from his desk. The screen was black and only showed the low battery sign. He must’ve forgotten to charge it. “Shit.”

Tsuna tossed his phone behind him before grabbing a random suit jacket from the closet. He nearly tripped over his feet when he pulled on some fresh socks and his dress shoes. He didn’t even take the time to check himself in the mirror. He just ran.

Dodging startled maids, Tsuna almost flew down the stairs. His breaths were the only sounds in the eerily quiet air, but his Intuition didn’t warn him of any danger. Still, that was even stranger. Were the Guardians on a mission? He wracked his brain to remember if they were but drew blanks in his panic. The most pressing question was why didn’t _anyone_ wake him up?

He approached the doors, finding the silence behind them too creepy for comfort, and turned the handles. Several eyes turned to him immediately and was that Kyoya sitting on a chair at the same table as _Mukuro_?

Hayato stood up immediately from his seat, dressed in an impeccable suit with his traditional red dress shirt underneath. “J—Juudaime, good morning!”

Tsuna blinked. “Ah, good morning, Hayato.” He slowly closed the doors behind him. “Everyone.”

Ryohei opened his mouth but quickly shut up when Hayato glared at him. Okay, that was beyond weird. Tsuna glanced at Mukuro who just gave him a pleasant smile. Chrome did the same but that didn’t really quell Tsuna’s nerves.

“What’s going on?” he finally said. “Is this some kind of simulation test?” The words were stupid and his Intuition thought the same but he was paranoid beyond words at this point. “This isn’t funny, Mukuro.”

Mukuro didn’t even blink. “What isn’t funny, Tsunayoshi?” He smiled slightly. “Well, seeing you fumbling around this morning is quite amusing.”

“Mukuro-sama,” Chrome said, her lips pursed.

Tsuna stared at his Mist Guardian. He wasn’t lying—well, on both accounts. Hayato narrowed his eyes at Mukuro. “I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut,” he said.

“Hayato—”

“You don’t have to worry, Juudaime.” Hayato quickly pulled his chair out at the head of the table. “Here, sit.”

Tsuna glanced at a strangely silent Yamamoto who just waved and grinned at him. That was utterly terrifying. “Takeshi, are you okay?” Yamamoto gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay…?”

Several breakfast dishes were laid out on the table. Croissants, jam, bread, yogurt, fruit, and milk were everywhere on silver trays and finely-crafted dishes. None of them looked appetizing. Tsuna slumped on his chair, making some of his Guardians tense.

“Are you alright, Boss?” Chrome said.

“I don’t know,” Tsuna said, staring at his empty plate. Finally he looked up to meet Hayato’s wide, worried eyes. “Is there something going on?”

“What do you mean, Juudaime?” Hayato said.

“You’re all acting weird.” Tsuna ignored the way a few of his Guardians tensed. He sighed. “What’s going on? Look, I’m not in the mood for games. What did you break this time? The East Courtyard?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, breaking away from his “mafia boss” mode as Reborn would call it. Even Lambo didn’t laugh. He just stared sullenly at his empty plate. “We _just_ constructed that _three_ months ago.”

Hayato looked close to tears, which would’ve been funny if Tsuna wasn’t so exhaustingly irritated. “The East Courtyard is fine.” He wasn’t lying. “Just—Well—”

“What Gokudera means is that he didn’t want any of the guardians disturbing you,” a voice said beside Tsuna. Reborn hopped on the table and crossed his legs. A hot cup of espresso was in his hands. “Even going far as to bribing Hibari with an extended month vacation in Namimori.”

Hayato looked absolutely mortified. “R—Reborn-san!”

Tsuna stared at his friend for a good moment, almost oblivious to the painfully awkward silence in the room. Although he appreciated the sentiment—the amount of paperwork would decrease considerably from the surprising intervention—he didn’t find himself all that happy about it. A small chuckle bubbled in his throat, the sound spreading through his chest.

“Tsuna-nii,” Lambo said, frowning, “are you…okay?”

I-pin looked torn between leaping across the table to give him a hug and staying put in her seat. Ryohei was already standing, ready to assist in case Tsuna keeled over, despite Hayato’s wavering glare. Yamamoto’s grin strained a bit but still remained in place while Mukuro’s eyes narrowed just slightly. Chrome gripped her fists so hard on her lap that her knuckles turned white. Kyoya didn’t look up from his tea but his shoulders were tense.

The image was just too much. Tsuna’s heart felt too warm and fuzzy for him to handle and he burst out into hysterics, laughing and clutching his stomach. In that moment, he felt like his 14-year-old self again, dumb and slow and lost. No one spoke. Reborn didn’t even stop him.

“You—Is he right, Hayato?” Tsuna said, giggling. 

Hayato flushed, not sure how to handle his sudden behavior. “Um…”

“We’ll be here all day if you’re going to question him about his emotional insecurities,” Reborn said. He gestured at Chrome who handed him a filled plate of fruit, bread, and butter and slid it in front of Tsuna. It was frightening how in-sync they could be sometimes. “Eat. You’re going to be late.”

“Y—Yes, Juudaime!” Hayato said, trying to save face. “You need to eat! Nutrition, energy!”

Lambo snorted and didn’t bother to hide it. “Baka-dera is broken.” 

Hayato immediately turned on him, making him flinch. “What the hell did you say, brat?” 

Ryohei held him back. “Gokudera, calm down! He’s just a kid.”

“Do you think that ever mattered to me, Turf Top?”

Yamamoto finally broke out of his weird, silent façade. “Maa, maa, just sit down, Gokudera.”

“Yeah,” Lambo said. “Sit and be a good boy.”

Tsuna didn’t even blink when Gokudera leapt across the table, dragging Ryohei with him in the process. Picking up his plate to avoid it getting broken, he just crossed his legs and laid a napkin over his lap. 

Mukuro’s brow twitched when a pot of tea flew at his head before it vanished to Kami knew where. “Oya, to think we could be human beings for once was almost pleasant.”

Chrome and I-pin ran across the room to aid a screaming Lambo while Yamamoto laughed behind them. Kyoya snarled at anyone who came close to him but it didn’t really do much. Not soon after, he brandished his tonfas and joined the fray.

“Ah, damn it,” someone said from behind Tsuna.

“Good morning, Colonello,” Tsuna said, spreading some orange marmalade on his bread.

The former Rain Arcobaleno propped his elbows on the table and held his face up, which was scrunched in a pout. “I thought they’d last longer, kora.”

Reborn sipped his espresso before sticking out his hand. “Pay up.”

Grumbling, Colonello fished out some bills from his pocket and slapped it in the hitman’s hand. “Shit. You okay with this, Tsuna?”

“Okay with what?” Tsuna said. “I have nothing to say about you betting against Reborn. You know what I think about that and you’re your own person.”

Colonello winced. “Right. Damn.” He grabbed a biscuit from the table just as Mukuro’s trident clashed against Kyoya’s tonfas. “I meant _this_ —this mess, kora.”

Tsuna leaned his head to the side when a plate came flying towards him. It shattered against the wall. “It’s not a mess.” He smiled. “It’s home.”

Colonello huffed but didn’t say anything more. The three of them calmly watched as the dining room quickly turned into a ruins, a far too common occurrence for Tsuna but he didn’t find himself too angry about it. 

“Tsuna-nii!” Lambo said, his hair on fire. “Help!” 

“Stay still, Lambo!” I-pin said, whacking his head repeatedly with a towel. 

Gokudera almost grabbed a hold of Lambo before thick curls of vines suddenly restrained him. Chrome pursed her lips. “Gokudera-san, please calm yourself.” 

Unsheathing his katana, Yamamoto twirled it casually in his hand. “You look like you need some help, Gokudera!” 

“What do you think, idiot?” Hayato said, scowling.

Ryohei let out a war cry as he starting punching through the thick vines, his fists alight with his Sun Flames. “Extreme Drill Punching!” 

Tsuna just pursed his lips when Mukuro and Hibari both smashed through the window. Not a second later, a loud boom shook the building. He could already see the repair bills rising in the far distance of his office.

Reborn tapped his watch. “Two minutes, Tsuna. You’re not going to miss the meeting.”

Tsuna smiled. “I won’t.” 

When he stood up, everything came to a standstill. All eyes turned to him as he placed his finished plate on the ruined dining table. Mindful of the scattered berries and food on the carpet, Tsuna headed for the door.

“Hayato,” he said. “Onii-san.”

“Yes, Juudaime?” Hayato said, halfway out of his confines.

Ryohei paused his insane (new) punching technique to look up.

“I’ll be in the car,” Tsuna said.

When he left the home, Mukuro and Hibari had already moved their fight elsewhere. Where, he didn’t know. The car was already waiting for him.

“Juudaime!” Tsuna turned to see Hayato and Ryohei dashing down the steps. Hayato waved some files in the air. “This is the briefing but you d—”

“Hayato,” Tsuna said, “I trust in you. Come on, we’re going to be late.” He smiled. “Besides, I read up on it already a few weeks ago.”

Hayato flushed but the awe in his eyes wasn’t lost to Tsuna. “Really? I mean, that’s great! As expected of Juudaime!” He paused. “But will you be okay?”

“I’m fine.”

The driver came around to open the door for them. While Hayato talked to him about the directions, Tsuna blinked when Ryohei clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“How are you, Tsuna?”

Tsuna nodded. “I’m fine, Onii-san.”

He blinked when Ryohei suddenly reached out to fix his tie. The older man grinned. “Can’t have you showing up like an extreme mess,” he said. 

“Thank you.”

Ryohei squeezed his shoulder. “Welcome home, Tsuna.”

Tsuna grinned. “Yeah.”


End file.
